


Days of Our (Second) Lives

by DreamingAngelWolf



Category: Invaders (Marvel), Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Apocalypse, Barnes Family, End of the World, Father/son Jim and Toro, Hope and despair in roughly equal measure, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rikki and Rebecca are two separate people!, Romance, Winterspark, Zombies, minor fluff, no powers, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingAngelWolf/pseuds/DreamingAngelWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life, some people say, is a series of tests. They can be big, they can be small; they can be done individually or as part of a team. They need strength and courage to endure them, determination and perseverance. Surpass them, and the reward is usually worth it.</p><p>How do you surpass an Apocalypse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days of Our (Second) Lives

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided: from now on, anything I do that's Bucky/Toro, I'm calling it Winterspark. Idk why, it just seems cute (and catchier than Bucky/Toro). Would've used Wintertorch, but that could easily imply Jim or Johnny, so 'spark' it is.
> 
> But anyway - blah blah Apocalypse, blah blah handful of characters, blah blah ups and downs and general wringing of emotions. Apologies in advance for any tears spilled (don't say you haven't now been warned). ;-) Also, I posted it a day early, but this is a little birthday fic from me to everyone else 'cause I'm another year older and all the happier for it! :D xx

**Day 5**  
“I think it’s clear.” 

Jim steps out onto the street, but Toro waits until he beckons him before heading through the doorway himself. The sight still gives him shivers – a desolate New York road, devoid of life except for them; cars sat where they had been stopped, some with scratches and dents and smears of blood on their windscreens and bonnets, the traffic lights were dead, and litter from torn bin bags lay on the tarmac, resting before being moved on by the wind. 

Toro looks to Jim. “Which way?” he asks. They’re halfway down the street. Ahead of them is the rest of the city, and behind them is the sea. 

Looking over his shoulder with a frown, Jim makes a decision. “We’ll go in,” he says. “I doubt there’ll be any boats along the coast.” 

“But then what’s in the city?” Toro points out as they set off. 

He shrugs. “Food? Water? Maybe some more people.” Trying a smile, he pats Toro on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Tom. One day at a time, remember?” 

That was what his dad said. Toro swallows hard, but he’s helpless to the memories – his father pushing him out of the bus, his mother’s screams, Jim pulling him away… His chest tightens, and he forces his lungs to take long, shaky breaths, grabbing for Jim’s hand blindly. A second later, he feels a reassuring squeeze, and closes his eyes. They’ve got each other still, and that’s something, maybe even more than anyone else (if there is anyone else). No matter that Jim’s still not quite all there, too – he’s trying, Toro can see that, and he knows that his parents would hate for him to be ungrateful. 

“Think there’ll be ice cream?” 

Jim glances down at him, and his worry is replaced with a relieved smile, unforced this time. “Why don’t we have a look?” 

  
**Day 6**  
Toro blinks, but the boy and girl are still there. They’re staring at him and Jim with, he suspects, expressions that match their own, but it’s understandable – nobody expects to meet survivors anymore. 

“Where the hell did you come from?” the girl asks, eyes wide against a dirt-streaked face. She must be about Toro’s age, with reddish-brown hair and goggles hanging around her neck. 

“From the east,” Jim answers, gesturing back the way they’d come. “We planned on heading up to the station, but I guess that’s out of the question now.” 

The boy nods. “We got chased from that way ourselves. You’re wasting your time trying to go any further.” He sounds a little older than his companion, and while his face is also smudged with dirt he has thick brown hair, and doesn’t look quite so shocked by everything. He’s handsome, Toro thinks, and he hurriedly switches his eyes back to the girl. 

“Where are you guys headed then?” 

“Rhode Island,” the girl says. “Apparently there’s a survivor camp there. They’re shipping people out to Europe and Asia, wherever they can.” 

“We should probably do that too then,” Jim says, and Toro nods in agreement. 

“Why don’t you come with us?” the guy says. 

Jim and Toro stare at him, as does the girl. “Are you serious?” she whispers. 

He shoots a look at her. “Think about it: more people, more protection. Safety in numbers ringing any bells?” 

“More people, more food. Every man for himself ringing any other bells?” 

“We’d be mad to turn them away. They’ve even got the same goal as us now.” 

The girl gives Jim and Toro a sideways glance, then beckons her friend a few feet away. They bicker in hushed tones for a long minute, and Toro can’t pick out any direct words. He keeps looking around them, worried danger is going to suddenly appear out of nowhere (as it has a tendency to do, he’s realised), but before that can happen the strangers return. 

“My offer still stands,” he says with an open smile. “You’re more than welcome to stick with us to Rhode Island, but if you want to make it your own way, we’ll understand.” 

“Are you both sure?” Jim asks, none too subtly looking at the girl. 

Luckily, she just smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that – it’s just been a while since human contact besides family, and I was never a socialite before A-Day.” 

Toro raises an eyebrow. “What’s ‘A-Day’?” 

“Apocalypse Day,” she replies casually. 

“Oh.” He looks to Jim, and after a few seconds, Jim nods. 

“It’s a very kind offer,” he says. “I only hope we don’t slow you down.” 

The two of them grin. “Doubt it,” the guy says as they share a look, then he’s extending a hand. “James Barnes. This is my cousin, Rikki Barnes.” 

The girl also reaches out to shake hands. “Hey.” 

“James, Rikki,” Jim greets with a smile. “My name is Jim Hammond, and this is Tom Raymond.” 

“But you can call me Toro.” 

James looks at Rikki and jerks his head back the way they’d come from. “I’ll be back in a sec.” Rikki gives him a thumbs up, and he runs off. Toro watches him go until he disappears out of sight. 

“So – you two aren’t related?” 

Jim shakes his head. “No. I was a friend of Tom’s parents. They, uh…” 

Understanding shines in Rikki’s eyes, and she nods sympathetically. “Yeah, I know that story. Kind of, anyway.” Toro appreciates her lack of probing, but still shuffles closer to Jim. They spend the next few minutes trading general information, finding out that the Barnes’ are from Brooklyn and survived ‘A-Day’ by holing up in the garage where Rikki worked. They moved from place to place, stopping before dark to find food and barricade themselves into wherever they’d stopped, whereas Jim and Toro picked up food on the go and picked a safe spot when dark started to fall. Eventually, James returns. 

“Okay, we’re good to go.” 

“Right then,” Rikki says. “Let’s roll!” 

Except Jim and Toro are a little too preoccupied with staring at what James has brought back with him – or rather who. “You have a child?” Jim asks. 

The little girl turns to stare at him from James’ arms. She has dark hair like he does, but her skin looks a little cleaner and her eyes are definitely scared. James smiles down at her fondly. “This is my kid sister, Rebecca. Becca, this is Jim and Toro – they’re coming to Rhode Island with us. You gonna say hi?” She buries her face in his shoulder and he chuckles. “C’mon, don’t be shy. They’re not gonna hurt you.” His eyes flick to them sharply, and despite his light tone there’s a warning on those words. The thought hasn’t crossed Toro’s mind, so hung up is he over the fact that James remembered to call him Toro. 

  
**Day 11**  
Rhode Island, they quickly find out, is a dud. So then the plan changes to California. “Everything happens in good ol’ CA, right?” James (now Bucky) says. 

“Can we go to the beach?” Becca asks. She’s happily skipping along between Toro and her brother, a firm hold on the latter’s hand. 

“Maybe.” 

“Promise?” 

Bucky falters. Toro can see how much he wants to say yes, but in this new, bleak world they’ve found themselves in it’s hard to promise anything. Jim, he knows, made a promise, and he’s done well at keeping it so far, but they’ve had an easy road and Toro’s old enough to understand why he doesn’t promise anything. Becca, though, is just five. Eventually, the older boy sighs. “I said maybe, Becks. If we see a beach that’s clear, we’ll go to it, ‘kay?” 

The little girl pouts. “But Bucky!” 

“Hey, c’mon, no whining, remember?” She pries herself free of his hold and runs on ahead to Rikki and Jim. Bucky shakes his head. “Don’t know how Dad did it,” he says to Toro. “He left the army for her, and God she loved him, but me? Sometimes I feel like the bad guy.” 

Toro shrugs. “She’s young,” he says. “She might not understand why you didn’t promise her today, but maybe in a few years she will.” 

He hears Bucky snort. “You’re optimistic, kid.” 

“Is… Is that a bad thing?” 

“No!” Bucky laughs. “Hell no, it’s a damn good thing. Optimism’s like food – gotta keep hold of it where you can.” 

Smiling, Toro says, “I think I got it from Jim.” He ducks his head so Bucky can’t see him blush. 

  
**Day 13**  
“So you and Jim seem close.” 

Glancing at Rikki over his shoulder, Toro nods and goes back to scanning the shelves. “Yeah. He’s an old friend of my dad’s.” 

“He calls you Tom.” 

“So did my parents.” 

“Then where did ‘Toro’ come from?” 

He shrugs, reaching up for a pair of jeans. “Childhood. My friend Steve gave me the name. Said I was like a little bull when I got mad.” 

Behind him, Rikki smirks audibly. “Can’t imagine you mad.” She approves of the jeans and he drops them into the bag she holds. 

“It happened,” he admits with a smile. 

“I got mad when my folks died,” she says suddenly. “Kicked a cop in the shins. Didn’t have much effect, though – I was seven, and I reckon he’d had worse done to him. Next thing I know it was off to Uncle Barnes’, and he and my aunt looked after me.” 

Toro swallows, his attention back on the shelves of clothes. “Lucky you.” He can feel Rikki watching him, and knows another question is coming. 

“Same thing with you and Jim, huh?” 

He freezes. “… I guess.” 

“Lucky you,” she echoes, then, when Toro quickly moves on, says, “No, I mean that – he’s a nice guy. A little… I don’t know, off-beat? But sweet. Kind hearted.” 

“He had an accident.” Talking about Jim’s accident used to be something of a taboo, especially where strangers were concerned. Now, Toro would happily discuss the car crash instead of his parents. “He was in a coma for a while, and when he got better he stayed with us. It changed him a little, so he’s still getting back to himself, I suppose.” 

Rikki’s quiet for a moment. “He told me he’s worried about not keeping you safe.” Shocked, Toro whirls to face her, but she looks deadly serious. She smiles. “Like I said – you two seem close. Almost like father and son.” To stop himself choking up, Toro thoroughly inspects the child’s cardigan in front of him for durability. 

  
**Day 25**  
It’s a risky idea, making a break for the Mac Donald’s restaurant just ahead of them, but Bucky thinks that the three of them will fare alright. Toro wants to argue, but his stomach’s starting to grumble too, and the thought of even a stale, cold brownie is far more appealing than going hungry; so he swallows his reservations, takes Becca’s little hand in his, and promises Bucky and Rikki he’ll keep her safe. Then they’re gone with Jim, and it’s just the two of them, hidden in the back rooms of a camping shop. 

“They’ll be okay Becca,” he reassures her (them). “Your brother’s tough, isn’t he?” Becca doesn’t say anything, just chews her thumb and stares at her knees. She’s curled up against him – Toro seems to have a natural ability to stay warm, even in the coldest places – but won’t answer his questions or meet his gaze. After ten minutes of trying for an answer, he takes a different angle: “Alright, how about you ask me something now? Go on, anything – I promise I’ll answer it.” 

Becca raises her head, twisting around slowly to look at him properly. Then, just when he thinks she’ll turn back, she asks, “Why do you cry at night?” 

“Why do I… What?” 

“Why do you cry at night?” 

Colour rises quickly to Toro’s cheeks, and now it’s him who can’t look at Becca. “Uh… Well… I – I guess…” Stopping, he sighs. “How long have you known I do that?” 

“A while.” 

He cringes. “Does anyone else know?” 

“Bucky.” Toro wants to hide in a deep pool of water and wash away his childishness. “I woke him up ‘cause you were sad, but he said you were just having a bad dream.” 

Nodding, he takes up the story. “Yeah. Yeah, I… have a lot of bad dreams.” 

“So does Bucky,” she says casually. Then she looks up at him solemnly. “It makes him sad when you cry.” 

All Toro can do is stare at her. “Really?” Becca nods, and snuggles back into his side. After that, she becomes quite chatty, although Toro’s ashamed to say he doesn’t remember a word of their conversation beyond that point. 

  
**Day 39**  
“This one’s got a full tank!” Jim shouts. He’s stood by a people carrier that looks relatively clean, the first one they’ve seen since leaving the city, and they all pile into it happily. Everyone knows their place now: Bucky drives, with Rikki in the passenger seat ready to take over when he gets tired. Toro and Jim sit in the back with Becca between them. This is their third car since leaving the city, and Rikki’s driving is improving some but everyone still feels safer with Bucky behind the wheel. Well – Jim feels as safe in a car as he’ll ever feel, and Becca thinks Rikki’s the fun driver, so it’s probably just Toro who feels that way. 

“Sweet, they’ve got CDs!” Rikki crows as she opens the glove compartment. 

Toro leans forward. “What have they got?” 

“Um… Jay-Z’s ‘Blueprint 3’, Rihanna’s ‘Loud’, Fun, Lana Del Rey, and Taylor Swift’s ‘Red’.” 

“Taylor Swift,” Jim and Bucky say simultaneously. The younger teens give them both a look, but Bucky’s the one who gets defensive. “It’s the least likely to have swearing in it, okay?” Rikki points out that Lana Del Rey doesn’t swear much either, but he counters with, “It’s already the apocalypse, we don’t need to be more depressed.” As it turns out, Becca quite likes Taylor Swift, but after three runs of the disc they put Fun in anyway. Bucky and Rikki swap after the first play-through, and he falls asleep during the second. Toro only realises he’s staring when Rikki swaps it for Jay-Z an hour later. 

  
**Day 44**  
They park at the side of the road for the night, finding some convenient bushes to shelter them until dawn (and after the debacle they encountered that morning, they could all do with at least some sense of safety). Toro still has trouble sleeping, and tonight, it seems, so does Jim. 

“Perhaps it’s the car,” he says quietly over Becca’s tiny ball of a body. She’s taken a shine to him – Bucky thinks she sees him as a father figure, and Toro understands completely. As ‘dazed’ as Jim can be sometimes, he has a calmness and a sense of practicality that Toro’s never seen in another person, let alone anyone he ever knew personally. That, and he is kind. He was always kind before his accident, but Toro thinks that he became kinder afterwards; the doctors had said he’d suffered minor brain damage, but you’d never know unless you were told. 

“Still nervous?” 

Jim gives him a small smile and nods. “This morning’s incident hasn’t helped.” 

“I think Rikki did quite well, all things considered,” he smirks. 

“Yes,” Jim agrees with a chuckle. “Better than I could’ve done anyway.” 

“You’ll be alright one day.” 

“Maybe.” There’s a brief moment of silence. Jim subtly shifts his position, careful not to jostle the sleeping Becca in his lap, and reaches out to lay a hand on Toro’s shoulder. “How are you doing, Tom?” 

Toro shrugs. “I’m keeping up. It would be nice to not constantly be moving all the time, but I know –” 

“I didn’t mean that,” he interrupts softly. “I meant how are you doing at night?” 

Oh. Licking his lips, Toro thinks back to the past few times he’s tried to sleep a whole night. He can’t remember the last time that happened. “I try,” he whispers. “It’s… It’s still hard –” His voice breaks slightly, and he can’t swallow past the lump that’s appeared in his throat. As he bows his head to hide his weakness, he feels a tug on his shoulder, and instinctively pushes himself into Jim’s open arm, tucking his head against the man’s chest. 

“I miss them too, Tom,” Jim surprises him by saying. “But you’re doing swell.” It’s not surprising that he lets Toro make a damp patch on his shirt, but it’s the happiest Toro feels when he wakes up the next morning. Bucky looks at them knowingly, but keeps blessedly silent. 

  
**Day 52**  
“It’s just a quick trip into the town – you’ll be fine,” Bucky assures him, then pulls his seatbelt into place. 

Toro frowns. “How come you don’t do that when Rikki’s driving?” 

“Because Rikki at least knows how to drive,” he says with a shit-eating grin. 

“Yeah, but you’ve been teaching me.” 

“Sure – ‘cept this isn’t a motel car park. Anyway, let’s go. Quicker we are the better.” 

Grumbling slightly, Toro starts the car (number ten) and cautiously pulls out onto the main road. He doesn’t make the smoothest of gear changes but Bucky just chuckles and lightly teases him for it above Jay-Z. “So, what are we gonna get?” Toro asks. 

Bucky shrugs. “Whatever we can. Food and water, obviously, maybe another rucksack, some fuel if they have any – it’d be good to stick to one ride for a while.” 

“Can we get a board game?” Toro asks. “For Becca, perhaps.” 

“Like what?” 

He shrugs. “I dunno. Something long? Monopoly, or Cluedo.” 

“They’re a bit complicated for a five-year-old aren’t they?” 

“So we’ll play in teams.” Toro grins, picturing it in his head. “Yeah… We can pair up, or maybe go two against three, and then the winning team gets to choose the next game.” 

He sees Bucky shake his head in the corner of his eye. “How many games we getting, exactly?” 

“Five,” Toro says decisively. “That way we can all have one favourite.” Bucky laughs (a rare, beautiful occurrence) and reaches across to ruffle Toro’s hair. 

“Alright then,” he agrees. “But we have to get a deck of cards, too. Rikki and I have a Poker score to settle.” 

“Now that’s definitely not a game for five-year-olds.” 

“Guess we won’t be teaching you, then.” 

“What? Aw, come on, Buck!” 

“Hey, cool down, kid!” Bucky laughs again. “Course we’ll clue you in. Poker ain’t fun with just two people anyway. Tell you what – how about you become my protégé? We can wipe the floor with Rikki together.” Toro’s never looked forward to an evening more since before A-Day. As it turns out, though, they’re the ones who get wiped. Nobody knew Jim was a Texas Hold ‘Em expert. 

  
**Day 57**  
Since they holed themselves up at the motel, Toro’s taken to spending his sleepless nights in the reception, staring out of the window at the vast expanse of starlit grassland and wondering that the middle of nowhere would be safer than a desolate city. The creak of a door makes him panic briefly, but when he sees who it is he relaxes immediately. 

“You don’t do sleep, do you?” Bucky says. He’s pulled on a thick jumper and socks over his sweats, and looks as warm as Toro does naturally. 

In the desk chair, Toro shakes his head. “I don’t want to,” he admits as Bucky takes the empty one next to him. 

“Nightmares?” 

“… Memories.” 

Bucky nods slowly, and Toro thinks maybe he understands. He always seems to. They sit in silence for a while, staring out the window or tracing designs in the wood of the front desk. “I couldn’t sleep for a while after my mom died.” 

Blinking, Toro turns to look at him. “What?” 

“Your memories,” he says hesitantly. “They’re of your parents, aren’t they?” When Toro nods, he continues: “I had the same thing after Becca was born.” He takes a deep breath. “There were… complications. Something happened a few weeks before she was due, and Mom didn’t make it. I was fourteen, Rikki must’ve been… eleven. There was – a lot of blood.” 

Hearing the slight waver creeping into Bucky’s voice, Toro saves him from parting any more information. “There was a lot of blood on my mom, too. And my dad.” 

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You lost them on A-Day?” 

“Three days later.” 

“That sucks.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t think Dad made it past A-Day.” 

It’s the first time Bucky’s said that – whenever his sister asks where their father is, he says he’s still with the army somewhere, helping people like them. Toro had started to believe him, too. “How do you do it?” he asks. “How do you sleep without seeing them dying in front of you whenever you close your eyes?” 

Bucky’s lips stretch into a sad smile. “You close your eyes,” he says, “let your mind wander, and whenever you come across a memory you make it a good one.” 

“My memories are good ones,” Toro insists. “But they still end up dying.” 

“I know,” Bucky nods. “But that’s because you’re looking at them wrong.” He shifts the chair round so they’re face to face, and even though the room is poorly lit by stars Toro can see every inch of him. “When you see a happy memory, it hurts, right? Because it’s just a reminder that you can never do that with those people again – you’ll never see them smile that way, or laugh like that, never hear them say your name that way again. Except you shouldn’t think of it like that. You have to think, ‘I was lucky I got that moment with them’ because there isn’t another moment like it. It’s special – it’s priceless – and it belongs to you and no-one else.” He pauses, swallows lightly, and his eyes shine a little when he locks them back onto Toro’s. “Remember that they spent more time laughing than they did dying, and that our happiness was more important to them than our grief.” 

Lost for words, Toro merely nods. Bucky scrubs at his face, mutters something about a drink, and leaves him alone to his thoughts. He tries out Bucky’s advice, tentatively drawing up a memory of his parents from when he was young: one of his birthdays, his tenth maybe, and his mom managed to bake a cake without him noticing – chocolate, practically covered in buttercream icing, a big numbered candle in the middle. Initially, Toro thinks about how much he’ll miss her homemade birthday cakes, but then he forces himself to realise that she wouldn’t necessarily always have made him a cake, and that his tenth birthday was only ever going to happen once anyway. He sees her smiling, sees his father’s arm around her shoulders, hears him crack a bad joke and the laughter that followed – and rather than wanting to cry, he wants to laugh. 

He wakes up. Blinking, he’s a little confused by the dim daylight coming in through the windows, and even more so by the fact that someone has thrown a blanket over him. Twisting round, Toro’s heart skips a beat at the sight of Bucky asleep in the other chair, the blanket wrapped around him, too. 

  
**Day 66**  
“Shit, Bucky, what the fuck’s that meant to be?” 

Bucky shrugs helplessly as Toro and Jim gasp for breath, only distantly worried about waking Becca up in the next room. Rikki is not laughing, instead frowning at the sheet of paper with some heavy black shapes on it, trying and failing to think of what they could possibly resemble. She’d already tried several things, ranging from ‘goat’ to ‘forklift’, and none of them were right. The timer was fast running out. 

“Aw crap… Uh, alien? Mutant? Scientific experiment gone wrong? Frankenstein’s monster’s pet? Dead werewolf? Oh! Vampire-wolf!” 

“Time’s up!” Jim cries, wiping his eyes ineffectively. 

Bucky drops his arms and shoots an exasperated look at his cousin. “It’s the Devil.” 

“The Devil?” Rikki repeats in disbelief, jaw hanging as she stares at the picture. “In what universe is that the Devil?” 

“Oh come on, look! These are the horns –” 

“Y’know, you can label it all you want, I still wouldn’t have got that!” Bucky’s petulant look puts Toro and Jim into another fit of laughter, and as he and Rikki continue to bicker over whether or not his drawing is a Devil or just a disfigured, slightly Satanic dinosaur, it’s the most normal any of them have felt since A-Day. Sure, they're in an empty hotel room with nothing but torches, lumpy instant custard and a disastrous game of Pictionary between them, but it’s the loudest any of them have laughed in a long, long time. 

  
**Day 73**  
Jim hands Bucky a wipe. “We should go and look for the girls,” he says as Bucky cleans his face. “Rikki took Becca out the back like you told her. I imagine they went for the car.” 

Still panting, Bucky nods. “Just gimme a sec.” Jim leaves to fill up their water bottles. As soon as he’s out of sight, Bucky slumps against the wall of the living room, eyes closed, his face still streaked with dirt and looking older than he had a few moments ago. Toro knows why – he’s designated himself their protector even though he hates what he does. 

As Bucky tries to regulate his breathing (or maybe just calm himself down), Toro rests a hand on his arm and squeezes firmly. “Hey,” he murmurs. “It’s over for now. Everything’s alright, Bucky. You’re doing swell.” 

Bucky opens his eyes and gives him a grateful if slightly watery smile. By the time Jim returns he’s back on his feet, asking where Rikki and his sister went. “I saw them leave through the garden,” Jim says again. “There’s a good chance they were able to double back and loop around the danger to the car. Rikki’s smart – I’m sure she’ll have realised that herself.” 

“So we do the same,” Bucky says, taking the rucksack proffered him and slinging it over his right shoulder. “Let’s not waste any more time.” 

They sneak out the back, Bucky taking point and Jim bringing up the rear, and take a jagged route back to the main road. They have to wait a little bit before being able to get to the car, but when they do all three of them stare at it dumbly, trying to process what they’re seeing – what they’re not seeing. 

Bucky walks around the car twice. He checks underneath it, in the boot, even under the bonnet. When it finally seems to register that neither Rikki nor Becca are there, he turns sharply on his heel and almost launches himself back into the suburban undergrowth, except Jim is there to stop him. Somehow he manages to keep the young man from breaking free whilst shouting to Toro to open the car door, and with a strength none of them knew he had pushes Bucky into the backseat. Unfortunately, when Bucky forces his way back out again, Jim resorts to knocking him out; Toro watches, dumbfounded, as he lays him out in the backseat again with the suggestion that Toro stay with him, then proceeds to climb into the driver’s side, snap his seatbelt into place, and start the engine. 

“We’ll come back,” he says firmly as they drive away. Toro almost misses the sound of the child-lock switching on. 

  
**Day 77**  
The third day of looking seems to sap the last of Bucky’s strength. Jim and Toro have to half-drag half-carry him back to the abandoned house they’re squatting in, and after that’s it’s a struggle to get him to eat a bite of anything. He’s desperate to keep up the search, regardless of the fact that he’s scoured the same area of land at least five times over the last three days, and it’s when he brokenly whispers that they might still be out there that something in Jim caves. 

“How about if I went looking?” 

Bucky blinks up at him, his brain sluggishly working out what was being suggested. He begins to shake his head. “No, Jim, you don’t –” 

“And you shouldn’t,” he counters, “not anymore. You’re exhausted, Bucky. Wouldn’t you rather be closer to one-hundred per-cent if we find them than barely able to keep yourself alive?” When the message gets through, Bucky’s shoulders fall heavily, and Jim reaches out to grip one promisingly. “I won’t come back until I’ve looked everywhere,” he says, and Bucky nods in defeat. Toro’s anxious about Jim going on his own, and says as much before the man leaves. “You’ve got to look after Bucky, Tom,” Jim tells him with a smile. “I know you can do that. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be careful.” Toro hugs him tightly all the same. 

When he returns to the living room, Bucky is leaning back against the bottom of the couch, staring despondently at his hands which hang between his legs, elbows on his knees. “Should’ve stayed with them,” he whispers brokenly. Toro’s lost count of how many times he’s said it, but he never tries to say otherwise; instead he slides down beside him, daring to shift close so that they’re touching shoulder to shoulder. 

“At least you’re still here to look for them,” he says. 

Bucky scoffs softly. “Can’t even do that.” 

“Maybe not now – but Rikki’s smart. If she thinks we’re alive too, she’ll leave us clues, right? We’ll all be looking for each other.” He nods, partly to himself. “Yeah. We’re bound to find each other soon.” 

“How do you do that?” Toro looks round to find Bucky staring at him intensely, head resting against the couch, eyes red from lack of sleep. 

“Do what?” 

He blinks. “How can you… lose so many people and just… stay so positive?” 

Ducking his head, Toro shrugs. “I’ve always been like that,” he says, fiddling with a loose thick thread in the carpet. “I figured that the people I’ve loved and lost wouldn’t want me to change just because they weren’t around no more. Besides.” He looks up, managing a lopsided smile. “Someone once told me to hang on to any optimism I had lying around.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Bucky doesn’t smile back, but eventually he sniffs and asks for the food that he’d refused earlier. It’s just a packet of crisps – not exactly fresh, but better than the rest of the cupboards’ contents, and after dropping it in Bucky’s lap Toro turns to leave; he doesn’t even take one step before a hand is clasped around his wrist. “Stay,” Bucky pleads. When Toro settles back down beside him, Bucky presses closer than before, and Jim doesn’t comment when he returns to find him using Toro’s shoulder as a pillow. 

  
**Day 92**  
When Bucky kisses Toro, neither of them are expecting it. It happens after Toro goes on a solo scout, taking a little longer than planned to return and bringing trouble back with him when he does. The moment he crosses the threshold to their new temporary home Bucky drags him in further, and before Toro can stop to catch his breath Bucky’s lips are on his, his hands framing Toro’s face, and everything stops. Toro’s brain short-circuits, first with surprise and then with pleasure, and all there is to register are feelings, physical and chemical, that he’d never even dreamed of before, not with Ann at school, not with imaginary boys and girls, not with anybody – until his brain realises he can’t breathe, and substitutes ‘need to be kissed’ with ‘need for oxygen’. 

“What…” he gasps, forehead still pressed to Bucky’s. 

“I couldn’t –” Bucky shakes his head. “Couldn’t lose you too,” he breathes, hands trembling slightly on Toro’s face. “God, you… God, you scared me.” Toro can’t apologise because he’s being kissed again, and he vaguely wonders where Jim is before Bucky engulfs him in a tight embrace, holding him as if he’s afraid Toro’ll be snatched away if he lets go. 

Toro returns the hug with equal ferocity, not wanting to admit to the few terror-stricken moments where he didn’t think he’d see Bucky again, but they quickly step apart when a small ruckus sounds outside the door; as Jim stumbles in, hair a mess and clothes slightly torn, Toro feels his stomach drop as it occurs to him he only thought once of Jim in those few minutes with Bucky – minutes that can literally mean life or death in this world. “Tom!” Jim chokes, and Toro practically runs to where the man is standing, allowing himself to be wrapped into another bone-crushing hug. “Don’t do that again,” Jim scolds into his hair, “you hear? Never. Again.” 

Toro shakes his head, doing his best to blink away the tears. “I won’t.” He doesn’t promise, but he knows they’ll understand. 

  
**Day 100**  
“Today is the hundredth day since A-Day,” Toro says one morning as they wait for Jim to finish in the bushes. 

Bucky turns to look at him. “You’ve been counting?” 

He shrugs. “I worked it out last night. It’s not hard.” Bucky’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow, and he flushes. “What? I was good at maths,” he mumbles, staring determinedly at a stone he’s pushing around with his shoe. Bucky chuckles, sliding an arm round his waist and kissing his temple, and then Toro flushes for a different reason. 

“Maybe we should do something to celebrate,” he murmurs. 

“Uh… ‘celebrate’?” Toro echoes, hoping he’s not imagining the double entendre. 

“You’re eighteen soon, right?” 

He nods. “Three weeks.” 

“We’ll celebrate then, too.” 

Toro gulps as Bucky comes to stand in front of him, gently pinning him to the side of the car. “But, what about Jim? A-and protection? And I – I’ve never –” 

Bucky silences him with a kiss. “Don’t worry about any of that,” he says with a cocksure grin. “It’s Jim’s turn to scout tonight and I’m already fairly experienced. And prepared.” He laughs then, because there’s no way Toro can get any redder. 

  
**Day 102**  
Toro could get used to this: sleeping with another body behind his, moulded almost perfectly together. Well – they aren’t exactly sleeping at this particular moment in time, but that’s not important. He could get used to the feel of Bucky’s lips on the shell of his ear, too, or on that spot just behind his earlobe… 

“Toro?” 

“Mm?” 

“Kinda waiting for an answer here.” 

“Oh.” He resists the urge to squirm. Just. “Um, would you be… upset… if I said… no?” 

Bucky’s breath is hot on his wet skin. “A little,” he mumbles, “but it’s okay.” Toro relaxes. “I just have one more question.” 

He swallows. “You do?” 

“You never said anything about the other night.” Bucky moves so he can look down at him. “Was it okay?” 

Toro blinks at him. Okay? He’d never felt anything like he had that night – the exhilaration, the rush of adrenaline, Bucky’s touch, touching Bucky, the pain turned pleasure, the sensation of fitting together with someone as if they were made with you in mind, that high… “It was incredible,” he answers sincerely. 

Huffing a laugh, Bucky’s expression smooths into relief, and he settles back down with a kiss on Toro’s shoulder. “Sap,” he teases. 

“So,” Toro says after a minute, “what are you going to do about…?” 

Bucky grunts. “Just wait it out. Never know, might get you interested in the morning.” He doesn’t see the guiltily excited expression on the other boy’s face. 

  
**Day 118**  
He’s waiting. His chest heaves, even as his lungs burn and his limbs shake, and Bucky sounds like a steam engine next to him, but he doesn’t drag his eyes away from the doorframe. He’s just waiting for Jim to appear, right behind them like he was seconds ago – or was it seconds? Toro has no idea; everything is seconds in his mind, but his body feels like he’s been running for hours. This lack of awareness of time is beginning to drive him insane, and when he can’t take it anymore he goes. 

“Toro, wait!” Toro ignores Bucky and steps into the rectangle of light, ready to see Jim bent double, hair messed up, relieved smile on his face… Except he doesn’t. He sees Jim, but he also sees blood – or is that gore? A flash of white that could be bone, or really, really pale skin – but Jim’s eyes are closed. His eyes are closed, and he’s covered in blood, and he’s not breathing and his clothes are torn and his hair is messy but there’s no way he can sort it out and oh god it’s like his parents all over again except it’s Jim and it can’t be Jim because he doesn’t fucking deserve this and he has to be there he promised and Jim doesn’t break his promises and he was right behind them how had this happened why had it happened Jim survives car crashes he lives one hundred days past A-Day like them it can’t end like this not now not how it began it can’t it can’t – 

Toro lurches forward to try and save him, but before he can even go one step he’s being yanked sideways, colliding with a solid torso and feeling strong arms hold him in place – but he doesn’t want to be held back, and suddenly he’s angry. He pushes and shoves at the muscles in front of him, shouting things and names as his vision blurs over. Someone’s saying things in his ear, something that sounds like his name, but he keeps fighting because if he’s going to go down too then he’s going to go down fighting, because no doubt that’s how Jim went. And with that thought, Toro stops. He chokes on a sob, lets Bucky pull him back against his chest, an arm around his waist, a hand on the back of his head, and he cries. 

He can hear Bucky murmuring in his ear again. He doesn’t understand what’s being said, but it makes him realise something: he never heard it. Jim was right behind them, but they didn’t know he was dead until how long after they’d reached safety? Toro’s heart breaks a little further, because amidst the noise and shouting of surviving, they hadn’t heard Jim dying. 

  
**Day 121**  
“Happy Birthday,” is the first thing Bucky mumbles when he wakes up, and he presses a chaste kiss to the back of Toro’s jaw. 

Toro blinks rapidly. He stopped crying about twenty minutes ago, but that doesn’t mean his eyes are empty. He wants to feel happy, but he knew that he was never going to be truly happy – this was his first birthday without the people he cared about the most. No parents. No Jim. No Rikki and Becca. Not even a Steve or an Ann. Just Bucky. Without warning he rolls over and buries himself against Bucky’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing hard. Just Bucky. It’s better than no-one. 

Bucky stops at a garage and finds a muffin and a pack of candles in the shop. The muffin’s stale, and the candle looks a bit pathetic, but considering Toro didn’t think he’d have a birthday cake at all this year it’s pretty special. By nightfall, he decides that everyone would rather he try and enjoy his birthday at least a little than spend it mourning for lost family, so he celebrates with Bucky, and even manages a smile afterwards. 

  
**Day 144**  
They’re driving down another deserted highway when Bucky says, “Nights are getting shorter now.” 

From the passenger seat, Toro blinks at him. “What do you mean by that?” 

Bucky shrugs. “Just thought I’d point it out.” He smiles a little. “Becca always used to pick up on it. Meant her birthday was getting closer.” Toro smiles too, but neither of them try and stop the silence that settles. 

Time passes by. Toro watches the landscape roll by them through the window, the bright sun illuminating everything as far as the eye can see: grass, trees, shrubs, mountains, all baking under a sparsely cloud-stroked blue sky. “Shouldn’t we have been in California by now?” 

“Months ago,” Bucky says with a snort. 

“Why didn’t we pick up a map?” 

“Guess we didn’t think.” 

Toro grins suddenly, turning away from the window. “Are we even going the right way?” 

Bucky grins too. “Dunno. Which way’s the sun going?” 

“It’s in the middle of the sky.” 

“Then I have no fucking clue!” 

They’re laughing, loud, hard, and slightly hysterical, but it’s the best they’ve felt in a long time. 

  
**Day 163**  
Bucky’s unusually quiet. Toro’s driving, and they’ve put Jay-Z on because they have a car with a CD player, but he isn’t rapping along to the words or trying to make his own up. Toro doesn’t immediately say anything, but when they stop at a gas station for fuel and a snack, he sees him gazing at the birthday card selection. 

Coming up beside him, Toro nudges Bucky’s side gently. “Who’s?” he asks. 

“Becca’s,” Bucky sighs, voice pained in a way Toro hasn’t heard since Jim’s death. He slips his hand into Bucky’s and gives it a squeeze, coaxing a tiny, brief smile onto his face. They leave without a card; later, however, while exploring an abandoned homestead, Toro comes across a little girl’s room and has an idea. Apologising to his parents and Jim, he hurries back downstairs to Bucky, finding him already outside and closing the boot of the car. 

“Hey,” he says, standing with his hands behind his back. “I got something.” Bucky raises an eyebrow, and Toro reveals the knitted toy doll he took from the bedroom. “You know, ‘cause it’s her birthday, and she’ll be upset if she doesn’t get something from her big brother when we find her.” 

Bucky takes the doll reverently, staring at it for a second before looking up at Toro. He steps forward and cups his jaw, kissing him tenderly, and when they part he’s smiling genuinely for the first time that day. “Thank you,” he whispers. 

  
**Day 181**  
Toro works out that they’ve spent roughly six months alive since A-Day. Bucky declares this an excuse to celebrate – “In style.” He makes a risky run for some alcohol, introducing Toro to Jack Daniels and expensive vodka, which seems like a fantastic idea at the time but makes them regret everything in the morning. 

“Did we even celebrate?” Toro moans, head between his knees as he sits in the shadow of the car. 

Bravely looking into the backseat, Bucky reaches in and pulls out an unopened condom. “Doesn’t look like,” he mutters. The alcohol (what remains of it) is stuffed to the bottom of their supplies. Toro’s hesitant about ever touching it again but relents when Bucky points out that they can use it for Molotov bombs if things get desperate. 

“Do you even know how to make them?” 

“Sure I do.” 

“Fine. Just don’t tell me how, and if it works I won’t care.” 

  
**Day 202**  
They find a classic motorbike at the next fuel stop, and Bucky goes a little gaga over it. “It’s a fifties Harley Davidson!” he excitedly tells Toro, who recognises the name but can’t appreciate it any more than that. He leans against the car as Bucky babbles numbers at facts at him, running his hands over every inch of the thing, looking like a kid at Christmas, and tries to be interested. It is, he has to admit, a nice-looking bike, but motorbikes aren’t something he’s particularly clued-up on. When Bucky emerges from the shop with a helmet in his hands though, he can hardly say no to letting him take the Harley for a quick spin. 

Back in the car, Bucky raps along to every Jay-Z song on the CD, reducing Toro to tears when he makes up his own lyrics for the parts he doesn’t know. He refrains from pointing out that he couldn’t have done it on a bike. 

**Day 213**  
“Which city is this?” 

“Not a clue. Didn’t see any upright road-signs.” 

Bucky cusses softly but keeps the car going. Both of them are nervous about entering cities – weirdly, they’re more dangerous than the open-spaced rural areas they’ve been hopping between, but at least they have a better chance of finding somewhere relatively comfortable to stay for the night. And food. Hopefully still within its use-by date. It hasn’t gone unnoticed how thin they’re getting, hitting them a few days ago when Bucky called Toro ‘Matchstick’ without thinking about it. 

They quickly raid a supermarket, but everything that was fresh at the time of A-Day has long since become inedible. Settling for chocolate, stale crisps, and anything canned has lost its appeal, and Toro wistfully remembers his favourite sandwich: hearty cheese and salami, with a good helping of lettuce and tomatoes under a splash of olive oil. His stomach grumbles and he sighs, gazing mournfully at the canned carrots in his hand. 

“I got some more gas canisters for the stove,” Bucky announces as they regroup. “Wanna try cooking some noodles tonight?” 

Toro shrugs. “Sure. As long as there’s a half-decent sauce to go with them.” 

“What was wrong with the last sauce I made?” 

“It tasted like mud.” 

“Still say you have to have tasted mud before to describe it like that.” 

“Knock it off!” He takes a lazy swipe at Bucky, unable to prevent a smile when the other starts laughing fondly. 

“We’ll dine like kings tonight, Toro!” he calls. “Kings of the Apocalypse!” 

  
**Day 218**  
Everything is darker than usual – except for those brief seconds when it isn’t – and so much louder. The two of them dart for the first place they can unlock, having given up attempting to drive through the sheet of rain that has been unleashed on the city, and huddle together in the corner of a restaurant, stripped out of their soaked clothes and pressed skin to skin beneath their damp blanket. Bucky’s shivering more than Toro and uses him like a human hot-water bottle. 

When another series of loud thumps sound out against the front of the restaurant, Toro jumps and presses back against Bucky a little more, feeling his arms tighten in response. “We’re safe,” Bucky whispers shakily into his ear, and Toro looks anywhere but the window when lightning floods the dark dining area. “Hey – it’ll be over soon,” he says over the sound of a car being tipped on its side, “then we can go clothes shopping.” 

“Hate clothes shopping,” Toro manages to mumble back, and Bucky presses a kiss to the top of his head. He’s asleep soon after, but no matter how hard he tries Toro can’t follow suit, not until the thunder stops and the wind dies down to a less-destructive level. 

  
**Day 234**  
It’s amazing, really, that neither of them has sustained a serious injury up until this point; while fleeing from danger in a half-shredded barn, Bucky fell through part of the wooden catwalk, lacerating his left arm on an old piece of machinery several feet below (and it’s a goddamn miracle that he didn’t break anything). Toro knows the danger of free-flowing blood in this day and age, and somehow manages to help Bucky back to the car before he bleeds out and death catches up to them, but once they’ve driven a safe distance away he realises Bucky isn’t out of the woods yet. 

“Eyes open, Buck!” he snaps again, slapping him lightly on the face as his eyes drift close. 

“Hey! What w’s that for?” 

“I told you – no going to sleep!” 

“Jesus, no need t’ fuckin’ shout.” 

“This is serious, Bucky!” 

“Don’t think I know that? It’s my – ah, shit! Cut that out!” 

“It’ll get infected if I don’t.” 

“Oh, stop worryin’.” 

“Stop worrying? Bucky you could’ve died back there!” Toro yells. “I can’t just wipe the wounds and bandage them up – you need stitches, and I’ve never done stitches before, but if I don’t you could still die, and then where’d I be?” 

“Yeah, well I’ll die anyway ‘f you keep yellin’ at me like that!” 

“I’m doing my best, and you’re not helping!” 

“Not a lot I can do, pal – why don’t we swap places, see how you like it?” 

“You know what? That’s a great idea. Then maybe you’ll understand that I’m yelling at you ‘cause I’m scared I’m gonna fuck this up and you’ll end up dead because of me!” 

Bucky falls silent, eyes dark, mouth set in a grim line. He blinks as he looks away, only inhaling sharply as Toro dabs at the rest of the deep gashes. Neither of them say anything until Toro hands him their latest bottle of whiskey, telling him to drink it. “Why?” 

“Anaesthetic.” His neighbour, Steve, had taught him a little bit about first aid when they were kids – his mother was a nurse – but Toro was struggling to remember what (if anything) he’d been taught about stitches. While Bucky drinks, he hurriedly boils water for the needle, loosely threads it, then wonders if he should have cauterised the wounds before attempting this. Swallowing, he takes a deep breath, holding his ‘equipment’ over the top gash. “This is gonna hurt.” Bucky nods once, and Toro stops hesitating. 

  
**Day 236**  
“Sorry,” Bucky mumbles. Toro looks across to where he’s slumped in the passenger seat, eyes half-closed, pale and drugged-up on painkillers and whiskey. Turning back to the road, he smiles a little, taking a hand off the wheel to rest it on Bucky’s thigh. 

  
**Day 261**  
The stench of his own vomit is enough to make Toro want to hurl again, but he knows there’s nothing left to force up. He’s on his hands and knees by the side of some building somewhere – a hamlet they were trying pass through, perhaps, he can’t recall – his limbs are shaking with the effort of holding him up, and he’s only vaguely aware of Bucky’s hand rubbing between his shoulder blades. Dawn had just broken – they’d nearly died last night, danger getting the jump on them while they were sleeping, and it was only now that they’d escaped the jaws of death (again). That didn’t mean they were both alright. 

“C’mon Toro,” Bucky says gently, but Toro squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. 

“I can’t,” he whimpers. “I don’t want to anymore!” They’re miles away from California – they probably have been this whole time. Death has been snapping at their heels for the last month, and all they have to keep it at bay is Bucky’s knife, a lighter and an aerosol can. He misses Jim. He misses his parents. He misses food, and getting a decent night’s sleep, and all his friends, and electricity, and hot water, and even school – and he’s tired. 

“We’ve got to, Matchstick,” Bucky says, trying to pull him to his feet. “We need a new car, then we can go back and get everything, hit the road again –” 

“Why?” he snaps, shaking himself free and sagging back to the ground. “There’s probably nothing left in California, and if we’re not there now, who says we’ll get there at all?” He sniffs, wiping at his eyes harshly. “It’s been months since we’ve seen anyone, and we’ve probably been through half the states by now. What makes California special? Hell, what if it’s worse than anywhere else? Chances are we’re walking to our deaths, so why put it off? Why not just… let it come.” 

Toro feels rather than sees Bucky sit down beside him, shudders as Bucky puts an arm around his waist (the bad arm, the arm littered with crude stitching over pink, jagged stripes), but offers no resistance when he’s pulled into Bucky’s side. “What happened to all that optimism you used to carry around?” 

“Dunno,” he mutters with a half-arsed shrug. “Lost it.” 

There’s a smile in Bucky’s voice when he says, “Good thing I borrowed some, then.” He squeezes Toro’s hip meaningfully. “We’re doing okay, Toro. In fact I think we’re doing great,” he continues. “Whatever we find in California – because we will get there eventually – it doesn’t matter, because we know we can beat this fucked-up world. We’re gonna stay alive for as long as it takes for help to get here, and then we’re gonna keep going.” 

Blinking against tears, Toro turns and buries his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck, wishing he could just close himself off from smell and sound as easily as he could sight. Bucky lifts a hand to tangle in his hair, fingertips running soothingly over Toro’s scalp as he tells him to sleep, and Toro willingly sinks into blissful oblivion. 

  
**Day 274**  
Though they can’t remember the exact dates anymore, both of them are aware that it’s been roughly six months since their first, somewhat spontaneous kiss. After driving for a bit they come across a motel, ditch the car, find a room with a double bed, and celebrate. It’s been too long since they were this close, Toro thinks afterwards, and despite his recent misgivings about their second life he finds himself inexplicably happy. There’s no way he’s going to ignore the desire to roll on top of Bucky and kiss him stupid into the pillows. 

“Wait, wait a sec!” Bucky laughs against his lips. “I admire your enthusiasm, but you gotta give me a chance to get with the program again, too.” 

Toro chuckles. “I’m not bothered about that,” he admits, nuzzling Bucky’s cheek slightly. “I’d be happy if all we did was stay like this until tomorrow.” 

Bucky smiles softly, the backs of his fingers brushing the back of Toro’s neck. “Good,” he murmurs, and Toro leans down to kiss him again, slow and lazy until he’s giddy with delight and has to wrap himself around Bucky’s torso… just because. “It’s my birthday soon.” 

He glances up. “Really?” 

“Six days.” 

“More celebrating?” 

Snorting, Bucky shakes his head. “When did you suddenly become utterly insatiable?” he grumbles light-heartedly. 

“Since you gave me back some of my optimism.” 

He hums, then without warning shifts so that he’s looming over Toro (leaning on his right arm more than his left, which Toro still can’t look at without feeling guilt coil deep in his gut), soaking him up with intense, blue-grey eyes that remind Toro of a wild ocean. “I’d rather have you happy and insatiable than miserable and not interested,” he admits in a low tone, and Toro reaches up to touch his face. 

“No more giving up,” he says. “I promise.” As Bucky kisses him senseless, he locks the promise away in his heart and vows never to break it. 

  
**Day 280**  
“Aw, we lost Jay-Z!” Bucky groans, the CDs they’d accumulated over time spread out on his lap. 

Toro rolls his eyes. “Guess you’ll have to find a substitute for today.” 

He snorts. “Could’ve played Rihanna this morning; ‘S&M’ would make things very interesting, I’m sure.” 

“Uh, I know it’s your birthday, but please take my inexperience into consideration?” 

“C’mon, you’ve been learning from the best, Matchstick!” Bucky laughs. “Believe me when I say you’re hardly inexperienced, not anymore.” 

“What do you think Rikki would say,” Toro asks, “if she knew what we’d been up to?” 

Bucky smiles, just a hint of sadness in his eyes. “She’d thank God that she wasn’t around us at the time, and probably give me an earful about setting the example for Becca.” He turned to look at Toro. “What would your parents say?” 

Laughing, he says, “I really don’t know! They probably wouldn’t be surprised, I guess. I was never… into Ann like she was into me. But I think they’d be happy for me, as long as I was happy.” 

Silence answers him for a beat, then Bucky tentatively says, “Are you? Happy?” 

Toro takes his eyes off the road to grin at him, big and wide. “Yeah. Yeah I am.” It takes a while for the grin to leave his face; today, on Bucky’s twentieth birthday, he doesn’t intend to do anything else. “Hey, put some Robbie Williams on, you can sing along to that.” 

  
**Day 299**  
Death catches them up again in the next mystery city. Once they’ve fended it off, Bucky throws down his knife and declares, “I hate this.” He drags his hands – stained slightly with his own blood – through his hair, stepping backwards before turning and beginning to pace. At a loss, and still mentally recovering, Toro just watches. Since his ‘freak out’ last month, he’s noticed things about Bucky while they’re focused on surviving: Bucky wields a knife with deadly skill, he’s fearless, strong, practically unstoppable – but there’s always a blankness to his eyes that worries Toro, and it doesn’t leave until they’re far away from their battlegrounds, gone with a few blinks, like a switch being flicked. Now, it seems, the switch is faulty. 

Toro jumps as Bucky suddenly fills his vision, gripping his shoulders almost painfully. “I don’t like it,” he says urgently. “What we do, I don’t – I’m good at it, I know, but sometimes I wish I wasn’t. It – it changes me, Toro, a-and I’m scared of what it’s turning me into. You know what I thought the other day? I hoped that Rikki and Becca really were dead, so that they didn’t have to see this shit.” He swallows, eyes watering, and his grip tightens. “I wished they were dead, Toro!” he repeats in anguish. “What kind of person thinks that?” 

Shrugging one shoulder slightly, Toro says quietly: “I sometimes think I’m glad that Jim and my parents are dead; for the same reason.” 

Bucky blinks at him, processing. He shakes his head. “I’m not a killer,” he insists. 

“I know.” 

“I’m not a killer.” 

He nods, bringing his hands up to stroke the side of Bucky’s neck. “I know – you’re Bucky.” Before he can say those words again, Toro kisses his forehead and wraps him in his arms, wondering if this was how he looked when their positions had been reversed. Keeping an eye out for danger, he holds Bucky until he stops shaking, then picks up his knife and leads him back to the car. 

  
**Day 305**  
Toro stares at the girl, the ends of whose hair he’s just accidentally singed, and she blinks owlishly back at him. They stay like that for a bit, taking each other in, and Toro struggles to believe he’s not dreaming. How else could this be explained? 

“Where the hell did you come from?” 

He barks out a laugh, and then they’re hugging, and she’s laughing in his ear and he’s laughing too despite the tightness in his throat because he can’t believe it: it’s real. She’s actually in his arms, solid and whole and breathing (God, he’d nearly torched her!), and he had no idea how much he’d missed her. “Rikki!” 

“Toro!” Rikki pushes him back, wiping at her eyes to get a proper look at him. “God, it’s actually you!” 

“We looked for you for ages!” 

“I thought you were dead!” 

“Is Becca with you?” 

“Yeah, she’s hiding.” 

“Bucky’s back there,” he tells her, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. 

A grin splits her face. “Becca’s in the tourist shop a few metres down –” 

“I’ll go get her, you just find Bucky!” 

“Right!” She gives him another hug before tearing off in the direction he pointed her, and he runs down the street until he sees the tourist shop with a bashed-in door. 

“Rebecca?” Toro calls, eyes scanning the gloomy interior for the girl’s small figure. “Becca, it’s me, Toro – you in here?” 

“Toro!” 

He spins around in time to brace himself as Rebecca Barnes throws herself around his legs, and he has a small job prying her loose so he can give her a proper hug. “Hey – you wanna go see your brother?” 

Her whole face lights up. “Bucky’s here?” 

“Yeah, come on,” he says, taking her hand and laughing as she drags him out of the shop. Becca’s excitement seems to bleed into him because they run down the street, even as he leads her between the broken fence to where he last left Bucky, then finally they round the last corner – 

“Bucky!” 

Toro watches what happens next as if it’s the ending to a movie; at the sound of his name, Bucky’s head whips round. The smile he’d had whilst talking to Rikki grows, his whole face glowing as he cries “Becca!”, choking on her name like he can’t believe his eyes. She’s already running towards him, and he bends down in time to scoop her up and hold her against his chest, tears finally spilling over. Becca has him in a choke hold, her face buried in his neck, and they can all hear her crying too, but her big brother just chokes out a laugh and strokes his little sister’s hair. “I’m here,” he says thickly. “I’m here now, Becks, I’m here – it’s okay, ’s okay…” 

“He’s not gonna let her go,” Toro says quietly to Rikki, his own vision slightly blurred. 

“Toro? Where’s Jim?” The smile drops from his face; he turns to look at her slowly, trying to find the words he never had to say to anyone but himself (Bucky was there, Bucky already knows). As it turns out, the look on his face is answer enough. “Oh, no,” Rikki breathes, then has him in another disbelieving embrace. “God, Toro, I’m so – I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

“What?” He pulls away, staring at her in shock. “Why on Earth would you say that?” 

She blinks. “Well, if I was, I might’ve been able to –” 

“No,” Toro stops her, shaking his head. “You have absolutely nothing to apologise for, Rikki. Nothing. There was –” He swallows. “I don’t think there was anything anyone could’ve done.” 

After a beat, she gives him a sad smile in thanks. “Were you okay?” 

He bites his lip. “Not for a bit,” he admits, then looks over at Bucky, still in a tearful embrace with Becca. “But I wasn’t alone.” 

Rikki takes a steadying breath. “I hope you guys have somewhere nice to stay,” she says, “because boy, do we have a lot to catch up on!” 

  
**Day 322**  
“Oh my god, what fresh hell is this?” 

“It’s Katy Perry, Rikki.” 

“Seriously Bucky? Katy Perry?” 

“It’s for Becca.” 

“Anya likes this music!” 

“Anya’s a doll – fine, okay, Anya likes Katy Perry, good for Anya. Toro, c’mon, please tell me I’m not the only person with a brain cell in here?” 

“Hey!” 

“It’s alright Rikki, you can tune her out after a few minutes.” 

“Ugh, I want to tune her out now! Did you lose all our good CDs while we were gone?” 

“Sorry kid, Jay-Z and Fun bit the dust a while ago.” 

“No, Jay-Z!” 

“I know. On my birthday, too!” 

“He knew all the words. Except when he didn’t, and then he used to replace the proper lyrics with his own.” 

“And they were damn good!” 

“Can you replace these lyrics? Think I’m getting diabetes back here.” 

“Bucky?” 

“Yeah Becks?” 

“I need a wee.” 

  
**Day 348**  
When he sees the signpost for Oregon, Toro thinks he’s dreaming. “Did that say Oregon?” 

“Huh?” 

“Yeah, I saw it too,” Rikki says. 

Bucky glances at them both. “Well how far did it say?” 

“I didn’t see,” Toro admits. 

“Me neither.” 

“Never mind,” Bucky sighs. “We know we’re going the right way.” 

  
**Day 367**  
Just before the clock on the mantelpiece (which is still miraculously working) hits midnight, Bucky turns his head, locking eyes with Toro, and smiles. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

“It’s been a year since A-Day.” 

Toro’s grin spreads slowly. “Has it now?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Bucky shifts onto his side, encouraging Toro to do the same with a hand on his hip. “That means we’ve known each other nearly a year.” 

“Yeah…” Toro slides his hand up the arm at his waist, familiar now with the dips and ridges of the scars that run from forearm to shoulder. “So, are we going to mark the occasion?” 

Bucky grins lewdly. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Well,” he drawls, moving them closer together, “I was thinking we could just celebrate, like we normally do on these occasions.” He kisses Bucky somewhat filthily, a little taster for what’s to come. 

“When are we stop gonna referring to sex as celebrating?” Bucky asks with a chuckle. 

“Never.” He laughs, and Toro feels on fire. 

  
**Day 374**

There’s a woman waving at them at the end of the road, a stand-out figure with long blonde hair, and behind her is another man running up, a bird – no, a hawk – flying above him. To the right is a beach, the sand glowing yellow in the sun, the sea a sparkling blue, and Becca has Anya pressed up to the glass so she can see too, already making Bucky “actually promise” to take her there. There are cars parked along the road, not strewn in memorandum to the chaos of A-Day, and they pass a sign with ‘California Refuge’ painted on in big, bold letters. Rikki and Becca chatter excitedly in the backseat. Toro catches Bucky’s eye, and he beams, tears already pricking his eyeballs as they lace fingers over the handbrake. 

Whatever test was being set them, whatever Death had in store for them, they passed – not only that, but they did it with flying colours.

**Author's Note:**

> omgIcan'tbelieveIkilledoffJim!!!! D': I'm so sorry...
> 
> So yeah, happy ending ^_^ Please feel free to point out any glaring errors I may have made grammatically/American-ly (I know it only takes about 5 days to get from the East coast to California, but it would suck a little if it just took them 5 days, and let's face it - the characters of 'The Walking Dead' have been pretty centralised for location-wise for a long time now), and general comments/kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Seriously, I grin like a loon.


End file.
